


Lazy Sunday Morning

by Velvetina_Belle



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Greg is Cheeky, Kissing, M/M, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft is a Softie, Mycroft is bad at emotion, Saying I Love You, Soft Sunday Smut, Sweet, gentle smut, mystrade, plot what plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvetina_Belle/pseuds/Velvetina_Belle
Summary: Mycroft and Greg have been in a relationship for a few months and have found their routine. Mycroft, however, is having to deal with having feelings and he isn't very good at putting them into words.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 10
Kudos: 118





	Lazy Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any mistakes or jarring notes in this. I used to write a lot of fanfiction years ago but it has been years since I've been in the habit. However, I have loved these two for a long time and I'm please to say they've come back into my head.
> 
> I thank all of the fantastic Mystrade writers out there who I have recently indulged in who have given me back my spark.

Mornings were a special time for one Mycroft Holmes, there was a quiet that covered the city of London that very few people got to experience fully. In this hazy, pre-dawn light he would allow himself a single cup of coffee to prepare him for the day; fingers wrapped around the fine china as though it were a lifeline. The view from his flat window was impressive, there was no denying that, with a clear view of the Thames and the distinctive spikes of Westminster palace it was a sight that many would envy. And yet, so wrapped up in his world of work and dealing with incompetent morons, Mycroft had become somewhat numb to the sight. When you saw it every day, and all it did was remind you of the work that had to be done, it was near impossible to enjoy it.

Though that had somewhat changed recently, he had to admit. It was amazing what a second set of eyes could do to help one see something in an entirely new light. 

Almost as though his very thoughts had summoned the man, Mycroft felt strong arms wrap around his waist and as he glanced down to examine the tanned skin, with clasped hands resting lightly on his belly, a sleep-roughened voice grumbled in his ear. 

“You get up too bloody early, gorgeous,” Greg groaned and nosed at the back of Mycroft’s neck, which sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. 

Taking a moment to enjoy the sensation, he then murmured, “As ever, Gregory, you are more than welcome to take the time to stay in bed whilst I enjoy a leisurely morning.” Mycroft twisted in Greg’s arms, so he was facing him with a small smirk playing about his lips. He never did seem to find it possible to control himself around this man. It should be infuriating, but he couldn’t muster the emotion. 

Greg snorted and rolled his eyes before stealing a sip of Mycroft’s drink. “Yeah, and I still say that five am isn’t any sort of time for leisure or whatever you call it.” He paused and then said smugly, “’M just glad I’ve finally gotten you to stop working at this time on a Sunday.” 

“Much to the detriment of my productivity,” he teased back. 

“Ugh, if you’re going to start using words like that ‘m gonna need some breakfast,” Greg wagged his finger up at him, “which you will be joining me for.” 

“Why, Gregory, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

** 

The pair sat comfortably at the kitchen table well used to the morning routine by now. It hadn’t always been this simple. Three months before, that very first morning, had been filled with apologies when they’d bumped into one another, awkward silences and unsure questions about how they liked their toast. The mood had only alleviated when they’d actually managed to sit down and Greg had slowly nudged his bare foot forward to nestle between Mycroft’s own slippered feet, which had made both of them smile at one another with undoubtedly soppy expressions. 

The way they sat had stayed the same, lazy footsie, but now Greg knew where everything in the kitchen was, Mycroft knew that his partner like his toast almost burnt and they were well aware of where each other was at all times; passing by one another with gentle hands brushing skin to show how much they cared. Though he would vehemently deny such a thing, Mycroft was finding that he rather enjoyed living in domestic bliss at the weekend. In truth, he’d much rather it became a permanent feature of their relationship, but he didn’t wish to push and cause a strain on what they had. He didn’t want to pressure Greg, who’d only been out of his marriage for eighteen months at this point, and if he was being honest Mycroft didn’t want to show his hand too early. He didn’t think he could stand the humiliation of Greg turning him away. 

A soft scrape of china on wood pulled Mycroft out of his inner thoughts and made him look up at Greg, who was collecting Mycroft’s plate so he could put the crockery in the dishwasher. As was standard on a Sunday morning, the detective had only pulled on his soft cotton pants and Mycroft took full advantage of eying the glorious behind that was on display. 

“What would you care to do today?” he asked mildly as he stood to wipe down the table. 

Greg shrugged and glanced cheekily over his shoulder, eyes twinkling with mischief, “You know what my answer is going to be, Myc.” 

Myc - it had taken him a while to be able to stomach the nickname, but now he found himself rather delighted that Greg had permission to use it when no-one else did. 

“Really,” Mycroft huffed out a mock sigh of disappointment, “if it were up to you, Gregory, we would spend all of our time in bed.” 

Leaning back on the dark marble counter and folding his arms, Greg looked entirely unrepentant about the fact with the corners of his beautiful mouth curling upwards. “Yeah, well I’m the one who has to handle the temptation you present every single day. I mean, c’mon Mycroft, I’m only human.” 

Unable to resist the enticement that one Gregory Lestrade presented, Mycroft found himself moving across the kitchen and caged the man between his arms by pressing them to the countertop either side of Greg’s hips. “You are so much more than ‘only human’,” he breathed looking down at Greg and then pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, “you are glorious and I am lucky to have you.” 

Greg’s expression melted and he sucked in a gentle breath, “Ah you sly bastard,” he groaned, “there I was trying to be all sexy and seductive and you go and say sweet things like that. Mycroft Holmes, no matter how much you try to hide it you are a romantic at heart.” 

“Nonsense,” Mycroft breathed out, but he could feel his expression betraying him and his heart beat harder in his chest. He lowered his head the last few centimetres and their lips pressed together softly in a heartfelt kiss. It was moments like these that Mycroft feared he would betray the depth of his feelings before Greg was ready to hear them, so to stop the words tumbling out of him all he could do was deepen the kiss and press their bodies closer together. 

Greg’s reaction was instantaneous. The man’s hand swept round and down to grip at Mycroft’s arse, unashamedly squeezing and wringing a strangled sound from Mycroft. In response, he slotted his thigh between Greg’s legs and rocked against the growing bulge in his partner’s pants. The man responded with a stutter of his hips before pressing down against Mycroft and biting at his bottom lip. 

With a flush starting to rise on his cheeks, Greg drew his head back and there was a dark, needy heat in his eyes. “For a posh boy, you’ve got a body made for filth,” he growled and used his grip on Mycroft’s backside to pull him closer. 

“Such crass language,” Mycroft scolded, doing his absolute best to ignore his cock throbbing in his loose pyjama bottoms. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Gregory.” 

The response was a soft laugh and another quick, rough kiss. “I think you should show me who’s boss.” 

Mycroft moved one arm between their bodies and cupped Greg’s erection with a gentle squeeze, enjoying the soft swear word his action elicited. “What an extraordinarily good idea.” 

By now, Mycroft could feel every pulse of his cock as Greg started to press sharp, nipping bites up the length of his neck, exploiting the sensitivity there. Any attempt at finesse in the situation was quickly going out of the window and he could his fingers start to fumble as he worked to get rid of the barrier of clothing. His breath was starting to huff out of him, even though his erection hadn’t been given any attention yet, but the way that Greg responded to him was more than enough for Mycroft to lose control. The man made him feel twenty again, which was a bit of a miracle because he’d not felt like that even when he was that age. 

Finally, after far too long for his liking, Mycroft had shoved clothes down to mid-thigh and both of them let out a satisfied sound as their lengths brushed against one another. Letting out a shuddering moan Mycroft was finally able to wrap his fingers around Greg’s erection; the hefty weight of it filling his palm and he gave it a loose stroke. 

“Fuck, Myc…” Greg moaned and when Mycroft glance at his face he saw that those beautiful eyes were now shielded from his view. 

Dipping his head, he kissed those full lips and nuzzles at his cheek, “Eyes open, I want you to watch this. See what I’m doing to you. See what you do to me.” 

The only response that he got was an undignified squeak, but slowly Greg’s eyes opened and focused on his face. As a reward, Mycroft kissed him again as he started to pump his lover’s cock again. The skin was like silk under his palm and he made sure to rub his thumb over the head, playing with the foreskin, in a way he knew made Greg lose his mind. The way that his lover’s hands tightened on his shoulders only confirmed that Greg was rapidly falling apart. 

“Gods, Posh…” Greg breathed into his neck, “You make me feel so good. Feeling those long fingers of yours wrapped around my prick… playing me like a fucking instrument.” 

Mycroft let out a gasping chuckle, “If you’re talking I’m not doing my job well enough-” he shifted his body so that their cocks were lined up against each other. The pair of them let out pleasured moan in sync with each other. 

“Myc…” 

“Shh, it’s going to feel so good,” Mycroft promised softly and shifted his grip so that he was stroking both their cocks at the same time. Heated skin met heated skin. Low gasps and moans filled the air. Their mouths met in sloppy, feverish kisses and the pair of them were whispering desperate pleas and promises. 

Everything melted into sensation for Mycroft. Everything about Greg always smothered his senses until the world around them vanished. He knew just how to move his hand, how to squeeze with his wrist twisting and thumb teasing the pair of them. 

As Greg’s moans changed pitch, getting a semi-tone higher, Mycroft knew it wouldn’t be long before his lover came. He made his grip tighter and his strokes rougher, their bodies pressing closer with desperation. 

“Yes, Gregory… let go. I want to see you. Hear you. Spill yourself all over my hand.” Mycroft rasped out and within moments Greg’s hips were stuttering in an unsteady pattern. He felt a spill of wet warmth over his fingers and kept moving his hand to milk his lover through it. He just stayed coherent long enough to see Greg’s head loll back and then Mycroft couldn’t hold any longer. He grunted, hips jerking forward, and his release was mixing with Greg’s on his skin. He knew he was babbling gibberish and only stopped as he leaned forward to set his teeth to Greg’s chest. 

They gasped and Mycroft felt strong fingers tip his chin upward so that their lips met in a kiss. 

Just as Mycroft felt his heart fall back into its usual rhythm, Greg spoke in a low rumble. “Me too, by the way.” 

“Mmm?” he hummed in response. 

“I love you too,” Greg said and Mycroft stiffened in his arms, “I know that declarations mid-orgasm aren’t usually ones you take to heart. But I know my Mycroft, you never let your control go normally… and you never say things you don’t mean. So, yeah, I love you too.” 

For a moment Mycroft couldn’t speak, too stunned by what had just happened and how full his heart felt. “Gregory, take me back to bed right this instant.” 

“Before you wipe down the table?” Greg smirked at him, knowing his fastidious nature overruled everything else. 

“Leave the damn table,” he bit out. 

Greg chortled and started to drag him towards the bedroom, “Mycroft Holmes, I love it when you talk dirty.” 

Mycroft wanted to chide Greg for his cheek, he really did, but he was far too distracted by the fact that this amazing man loved him back.


End file.
